


an abridged glossary of terms

by redbrunja



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: 5+1 Things, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-19 06:17:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8193410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redbrunja/pseuds/redbrunja
Summary: Larissa wasn’t going to be The Girl about this.
    If she said that to Shitty, he would read her the riot act about “damaging heteronormative thought patterns” and “internalized sexism” and “emotional vulnerability is bravery” but fuck him. He’s not the one who fell in love with his best friend.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lembeau](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lembeau/gifts).



> Dedicated to lembeau, she knows why. 
> 
> Much thanks to roadhymns, who beta-read for me and answered questions like, "is Shitty being radical feminist enough?" (no) and providing me many great options for baked goods that could double as bribes.

**(5)**

**chiarscuro**

Towards the end of Larissa’s freshman year, she and Shitty hooked up at an art department party.

They stepped outside of the party house to share a joint and Shitty ate her out against the side of the house.

His mustache tickled when he kissed up her thighs and she put her hand across her mouth when she couldn’t stop giggling.

Someone had strung chinese lanterns across the alley between the sorority house and the next home over, the red light contrasting entrancingly with blue of the shadows. She came - thighs trembling - thinking about how to she’d like to paint it, all slanting lines and Van Gogh colors.

She jerked him off while they necked, him crouched awkwardly so that she could get her hands on his dick and her tongue in his mouth at the same time.

When he got close, he broke away from her mouth, peppered kisses along her cheekbones, her ear, muttering her name, her nickname, how amazing she was, how good her hands felt, _you’re the best, Lardo, Lardo, Lardo._

After she tugged up her leggings, she held out her hand for a fist-bump. Shitty obliged, his pants still down around his ankles.

**(4)**

**assemblage**

Shitty talked when he was high, unsurprisingly. Sometimes he sounded like the most brilliant person alive. Sometimes he sounded like the ocean, soothing, hypnotic swells of emotion and timbre. 

This was one of the times when Larissa was definitely not listening to him.

Shitty was sitting with his back against the wall, poking her side with his toes when he needed to add emphasis to whatever point he was making.

Larissa was lying with her head at the foot of Shitty’s bed, way more interested in shifting her still-sticky thighs together and pressing her body into the cool sheets, the post-coital endorphins and THC combining into a blissful lassitude.

“I think there’s still blackberry pie,” she interrupted.

“Lards, you’re brilliant,” Shitty responded.

Larissa tugged on Shitty’s Notorious RBG shirt and crept down the stairs. Shitty didn’t bother with clothes, tip-toeing at her heels like a shadow. A very naked shadow.

“Nude descending a staircase,” she hissed at him, wishing for her iPhone.

She could see the gleam of his teeth in the dark.

“Do you have your phone?”

Lardo held out her arms, demonstrated her complete lack of pockets.

Shitty ducked back into his room, came back carrying her iPhone, and they spent, like, a _very_ short length of time photographing Shitty free-balling as he walked down the stairs. They were _super_ quiet, too.

Larissa had been right: there was a still a third of a blackberry pie left in the pie tin. She and Shitty each grabbed a fork and chowed down, flaky pastry and sweet-tart filling the perfect early a.m. treat.

She and Shitty had a brief fork-duel over the last bite which Shitty won by holding the pie plate over her head and not flinching when she clawed at his nipples.

“Jerk,” she hissed at him.

“All’s fair in love and pie,” Shitty replied and then lowered his head for a quick kiss. He ducked back fast when Larissa snapped her teeth at him and crossed her arms.

“Don’t worry, Lards, I’ll make it up to you,” Shitty promised and then boosted her up onto the counter. She shivered a bit from the cold linoleum on her bare ass.

“Fuck making it up to me, I wanted _pie_ ,” Larissa said petulantly but she eagerly swung her legs over Shitty’s shoulders.

He was so, _so_ good at this. Better than anyone else she’d ever had, even the other women she’d slept with.

Shitty nuzzled his way up her thigh, tickling little eskimo kisses punctuated by the firm press of his lips. She was already wet and squirming, knowing what was coming, stomach tight with anticipation.

At the v of her legs, he inhaled deeply, eyes closed, already wearing an expression of satisfaction, even before he used two of his fingers to open her up. He sucked her clit into his mouth straight off, a strong hard pull that sent a bolt of pleasure through her, so strong that she yelped, that the skin of her arms tingled.

“Asshole!” she said and tugged at his hair.

“You taste delish, Lar,” he mumbled against her, she felt more than heard, the sounds of his voice vibrating, sparks of heat rising from her cunt, up her chest, to the tips of her fingers. She rocked her hips towards him, gasped.

Shitty got to work. He wasn’t in any rush, lazily exploring her with his mouth. He knew where she liked to be licked, how. One long afternoon that had started boring, she’d timed him, the two of them making up elaborate rules for cool-down periods and then seeing how fast he could bring her off. By evening, Larissa had accidentally thrown her phone against the wall and broken the screen and Shitty had thrown out the cool-down rule in favor of seeing how many times he could bring her off consecutively.

So he knew his way around her vulva. Still, he clearly wanted to take his time, find every place that would make her thighs tense against his head, her heels dig into his shoulderblades.

God, she was so wet, her labia, her pubic curls, Shitty’s moustache, his lips, everything slick and sliding smoothly. Barely any resistance when he stroked his tongue through her folds, pressed inside her and then toyed with her clit some more.

Larissa was breathing fast, deep, her eyes wide open, wanting her orgasm to crash over her at the same time she wanted to hold off, wanted to see just how high Shitty could get her.

So she saw the exact minute Jack ambled into the kitchen, scratching absently at his stomach.

He froze when he saw her, mouth literally dropping open. Even in the dark, she could see his cheeks going dark as he flushed.

“Yo, can you come back in ten?” Larissa asked. Shitty gave a long, lazy lick up the length of her cunt, then lashed the tip of his tongue across her clit.

She slapped a hand down onto the counter, almost hitting the empty pie plate. “Maybe five,” she said tightly.

Jack backpeddled out of the kitchen so fast he almost tripped over his own feet.

Shitty pried one of her thighs away from the side of his head.

“Did you say something?”

“Don’t _stop_ ,” Larissa protested, an unpleasant, needy whine in her voice.

“Right,” Shitty said and bent his head again.

**(3)**

**ductile**

Larissa didn’t know why finding out that Shitty had been accepted to Harvard - was going to Harvard - had caused her stomach to sink, had caused her to feel like cold water had been splashed in her face.

It wasn’t like Shitty had ever been going to stick around after graduation.

It wasn’t like someone as brilliant -and white and male- as Shitty _wasn’t_ going to get accepted to law school _somewhere_.

Harvard was only a couple of hours away.

It could’ve been a lot worse.

**(2)**

**diptych**

“I missed you most,” Shitty slurs against her stomach.

They were in his room - her room - his old room.

Larissa had hit one of the unfun stages of drunk. The room was swaying around her and she was grateful for Shitty’s arms wrapped around her waist, keeping her anchored to the bed while he mumbled against her stomach.

She carded her fingers through his hair, getting used to the new length.

**(1)**

**ephemera**

Larissa wasn’t going to be The Girl about this.

If she said that to Shitty, he would read her the riot act about “damaging heteronormative thought patterns” and “internalized sexism” and “emotional vulnerability is bravery” but fuck him. He’s not the one who fell in love with his best friend.

She wasn’t going to make Shitty deal with her stupid romantic feelings about his stupid mustachioed face and his stupid nudist self. She wasn’t going to have to listen to him explain that he “loves her, brah, just not _love_ -loves” her and then pretend that poof! her unwanted feelings had totally vanished!

“Your boyfriend better _really_ appreciate this,” Nishka said, and yawned. She was majoring in Fiber Arts. They’d bonded during a hellish commercial design class.

Larissa had bribed her with half a raspberry sachertorte and a baker’s dozen of mini profiteroles (made by Bitty, obviously) to get her to drive Larissa to the train station at 4:30 a.m. on a Sunday morning.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Larissa says quickly. Her tongue stumbled over the phrase. She was blaming her blood alcohol content. Samwell had had a home game last night and Larissa was maybe still a little drunk. She planned to take the early train to Boston, hang out with Shitty, and then head back to Samwell on Monday. She’d miss her morning class (Art & Emotion, the prof loved her) and get back in time for her evening class (a geology general requirement that was proving surprisingly difficult).

“This is a lot of travel time for a hook-up,” Nishka said with an impressive lack of audible judgement.

“He does this thing with his tongue?” Larissa explained, pointing at her mouth. “I’ve yet to be able to talk anybody else through it.”

Nishka raises her eyebrows but didn’t look away from the road. “Damn. Well. If _you_ want to try that out on someone, you’ve got my number.”

“You know I do,” Larissa said with a leer.

The sky gradually lightened as she rode the train into the city, light-polluted black to dull grey to finally a delicate, clear blue, that confused her mind when paired with the raw, freezing wind that bit her cheeks and nose pink. As she walked along slushy side walks to Shitty's apartment, she wished for her sunglasses. 

She picked up her pace for the last few steps to Shitty's apartment and leaned hard on the buzzer.

“WHAT THE FUCK?????? I WILL BREAK YOUR FUCKING FINGER OFF, ASSHOLE!!!!!!” cracked out of the speaker after a good five to ten minutes.

“And a good morning to you, too,” Larissa said in her perkiest voice.

“LARDO!?!?!”

Moments later, she was treated to the sight of Shitty running naked down the stairs and into the apartment lobby. He pushed open the front door and picked her up, spinning her around, tote bag and all.

“Door, door, door!” she shrieked, and Shitty kind of lunged backwards and Larissa caught the door over his shoulder before it could close and lock them both out. Larissa laughed.

They hustled inside and thundered up two flights of stairs. It sounded like she had brought the entire Samwell hockey team with her, and not just… well, her.

Shitty had left his door open and he tugged her inside, reaching over her head to close the door and then cupping her face and turning it up for a kiss.

“Eww, gross, morning breath,” Larissa scrunched up her nose and turned her head away.

“You deserve it, if you’re gonna wake me up at before nine am on a sunday,” Shitty put his hands on his hips and tried to look as offended as a six foot tall naked dude who couldn’t stop grinning could manage.

She laughed and dropped her tote bag, heading toward his room.

In his bedroom, Shitty glomp-tackled her and got them both on his messy bed. It was still warm and smelled like laundry soap and Shitty’s expensive shampoo. Larissa snuggled down, curling her arms around a pillow.

“My dick or my mouth?” Shitty asked, kissing the nape of her neck.

If it was anyone else, Larissa would bat her eyes, say something about how _someone_ sounded confident, what, did he think this was a booty call or something? With Shitty, though, that would stop him dead in his tracks and it would take another twenty minutes of ‘yes, I really want to have sex, yes, right now, yes, _with you_ right now, FOR FUCK’S SAKE, SHITTY, EITHER FUCK ME OR HAND ME MY VIBRATOR.’

“Mmmm, dick,” she decided, kicking off her shoes, letting them drop with dull thumps to the floor.

Shitty pushed her shirt up to her armpits, unhooked her bra and let it fall open. He didn’t try to get either of them  totally off of her, clearly just wanting to bare the slope of her back. He kissed his way down her spine, the familiar tickle of his mustache, his soft lips. He took his time, nuzzling at the dip of her back, hands soft on her hips.

Larissa sighed, eyes falling closed.

He wrestled her panties and skinny jeans off, took a minute to admire her pedicure (yellow polish, a green marijuana leaf on each big toe) and then crouched over her to playfully nip at her ass. Larissa spread her thighs a little wider, rocking against the mattress.

Shitty slipped one hand between her legs, fingers pressing against her pussy.

She went up on her knees, making it a little easier on him.

Damn, his fingers felt good. Broad and calloused in such nice ways. He scissored his fingers apart in little pulses, opening her up. She moaned into her pillow. She’d tried to repeat that little move on her own and it never worked quite as well solo, never made her buck her hips back, never make her feel desperate.

She glanced over her shoulder. Shitty wasn’t watching his fingers work her cunt (which, honestly, was where her attention would be at if their positions were reversed) he was watching her face - when she opened her eyes he was looking right back at her.

“Okay,” she said breathlessly, and swatted a hand at his thigh. “Let’s go, let’s go.”

Shitty winked at her and went to go get a condom. Larissa closed her eyes, focusing on her body, how she felt electrified (could she paint that or should she do something in three-dimensional, with literal wires? was that too cliche?), how her cunt felt hot and empty, how her pulse pounded in her temples.

She didn’t bother to open her eyes as Shitty fumbled around in the bedside drawer. It was Shitty; she didn’t have to worry about making sure he wasn’t just fucking around with a condom wrapper, didn’t have to watch him.

She moaned when he pressed into her, the heat of his cock barely tempered by the latex.

The smooth slide of his dick, the rough pads of his fingers against her her clit - she climaxed three strokes in, burying her shriek in the pillow and then again, right after he finished, still inside her, growing soft, Shitty circling and circling and circling her clit with his fingers and telling her that she could come again, that he wanted to feel her, she could that that, couldn’t she? Come on Lardo, I know you can, I wanna feel you again, one more, you can-

It turned out, she could.

She panted into the sheets, let Shitty deal with the condom. By the time he came back, tucked himself along her back and pulled the comforter over them both, she was most of the way asleep.

“Lardo?” Shitty asked, fingers combing through her hair. His voice sounded weirdly serious.

“Nnnngmmmm?” Larissa managed. Her voice sounded like it was coming from a very long way away.

“Sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite,” he said playfully. There was something false about his tone, but she was too tired to call him on it.

Larissa managed to kick his shin before she zonked out completely.

 

**0.**

**avante-garde**

This was the best Sunday that Larissa had had in a long time.

After her and Shitty’s mid-morning nap, they’d taken a shower, in which they’d performed a duet, a capella version of Natasha Bedingfield's _Pocket Full of Sunshine_ and Larissa had used shampoo to spike up Shitty’s hair.

That had lead into Teh Sex: Round Two.

After that, Larissa had flopped down on Shitty’s couch in a pair of Shitty’s boxers and a Samwell Hockey t-shirt that had been washed so many times that it was super-soft and a faded orange.

Shitty ordered pizza and sprawled naked at the end of the couch, pulling her feet up to rest across his thighs. Shitty did his best to downplay the fact that he legit had a trust fund but things like his ridiculously delicious leather couch and the fact that he was a law student with an apartment sans roommate gave him away. Not that Larissa was complaining.

Shitty pushed a criminal law textbook out of the way with his heel so he could put his feet up of the coffee table.

“If you have to study, don’t let me stop you,” Larissa commented. “Your couch, my phone, and myself will be very happy together.” She stroked the couch cushions to demonstrate.

“No way,” Shitty scoffed. “I’m sure my professor will understand.”

Larissa, who had listened to Shitty talk about law school for four months, snorted.

Shitty lowered his voice. “‘Mr. Knight, care to explain why you neglected to do the reading?’ He let his voice rise to his normal register. “‘The coolest girl in the world showed up at my door.’”

He smiled at her, his brown eyes soft.

Larissa felt her stomach drop. She knew she needed to say something quippy and confident but her mouth was suddenly dry.

She was horribly grateful when the buzzer rang and Shitty went to go pay for the pizza.

Everything went back to normal while they ate. Larissa did most of the talking, filling Shitty in on: last night’s game; how Ransom and Holster were taking to co-captaining like ducks to water (she really should do a little painting of them as mallards, it would be cute and adorable); that so far none of the other teammates (and thus, ESPN) had cottoned on to the fact that Jack and Bitty were dating (she had Shitty in stitches with her retelling of the time Dex had walked into the middle of Lardo and Bitty dissecting Bitty's latest trip to Providence... and Dex had thought they were talking about the  _Jack's hockey game);_  talking about what she had planned for her junior year art show.

“Any idea what you’re going to do this summer?” Shitty asked.

Larissa frowned. She’d think it was obvious? She nibbled on her crust, sitting cross legged on the couch. “Come back to Boston, try to get an art internship that will pay me money but since that isn’t going to happen, I’ll probably end up barista-ing somewhere.” She paused. “Maybe I can find an independent coffee place that will let me hang some of my art up?” She shoved the last bite of pizza into her mouth, chewed.

“So, you’ll move back in with your parents?” Shitty said. That phrase sounded rehearsed, careful.

“Yeaaaaah,” Larissa said, dragging it out until it sounded like a question. Of course she was moving back into her RENT FREE childhood bedroom?

“Well, I think it would be swasome if you stayed with me for the summer,” Shitty said. “I miss you, Lards.”

Fuck, could he stop LOOKING at her like that?

Larissa picked up her can of soda, took a sip to kill some time while her mind raced.

Swawsome, sure, it would be. She knew they could be roomies without killing each other - they had the same lackadaisical approach to housekeeping. And spending basically every bit of her summer that she wasn’t a slave to the hourly wage with Shitty would be badass - a corner of her mind was already thinking of all the fun things they could do. -including each other, god, she was ridiculously into the idea of fucking Shitty on the regular, she’d spend the summer in a haze of endorphins.

  
But.

“I dunno, Shitty, I think moving in with your-bro-with-benefits is probably a bad idea,” Larissa said, forcing her voice to say light.

“Is that…Is that your pov on us? Bros with benefits?” Shitty asked, kind of slumping back into the couch.

“Isn’t that…. what we’re doing?” Larissa asked.

Shitty blinked at her. If there is one thing no one could ever say about Shitty, it was that he didn’t walk his talk.

“Nah, man, I’m in love with you. I was hoping we were heading into serious-relationship territory,” he said.

Larissa stopped breathing. She felt a storm of questions claw up in her throat - _really?_ and _do you mean it?_ and _are you sure?_

But it was Shitty - he wasn’t careless with people’s feelings and he knew his own mind.

Instead of wasting her time asking stupid questions, Larissa tossed her empty soda can onto the coffee table, ignoring it when it tipped over and rolled off to fall to the floor with a clang. She crawled into Shitty’s lap, dug her fingernails into his shoulders and kissed him hard.

She could feel him getting an erection under her, and she wiggled around, getting his dick right where she wanted and grinding. The fabric of her boxers pulled, making the fly gape open, meaning that when she circled her hips, she sometimes got the friction of fabric and sometimes got the soft-hard, hot press of Shitty’s cock against the lips of her pussy.

“Lardo, babe,” Shitty gasped, breaking his mouth away from hers. “Would you mind texting the subtext for me, because- because I-”

Larissa dipped her head, sucked a hickey right under the hinge of his jaw, knowing that he didn’t own a single shirt with a collar high enough to hide the mark she was making.

“I’m good with serious-relationship territory,” she whispered into his ear, like a secret. “I’m totally crashing at your pad this summer. _Em yêu anh_.”

She didn’t know if Shitty knew the Vietnamese for ‘I love you’ but she was pretty sure that he got the message from the way that she gripped his shoulders tightly. She was positive when Shitty started giggling with happiness. He twisted and shifted so her back was on the cushions and began to kiss his way down her neck.


End file.
